


Dreamscape

by Epoxide (MiyuTanemura)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dreams, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyuTanemura/pseuds/Epoxide
Summary: I started plotting and writing this fic a while ago. It was inspired by Epica's song of thesame name. Well, both versions of the song. ^^Anyway, this is me trying to return to this ship I'm so fond of... so I will hopefully get back to the several fics I have plotted for Bagginshield really soon. I posted this first part to make me finish this story for once and for all. Let's hope it works, hehehe...Thanks for reading, this is the only sad story I will allow myself to write for Bagginshield because fix-its are everything and denial in this case is a lovely thing. :P





	Dreamscape

The stone was cold under Bilbo’s feet, as he walked through the dark corridor. Behind he left the Company who was feasting the fact that they had just gotten their mountain back. Smaug had left and, apparently, been felled.

For that, there was every motive to celebrate but Bilbo was still wary.

It was not over, he could feel it.

Letting out a sigh that was echoed in the cavernous place, the hobbit pushed back his hair from where it was falling over his eyes.

No. Not everything was well.

There was still a darkness hovering and he was not the only one to see it.

Thorin…

The weight of what was in his pocket had never been so heavy.

Leaning against the rough wall, Bilbo slid down to sit on the ground.

He leaned his forehead against his folded legs and breathed.

 

* * *

 

His feet were kicking the air as strong fingers curled around and squeezed Bilbo’s throat, cutting his air supply.

Thorin was nearly unrecognizable, eyes wide and glazed over, face an awful mask of rage and disgust, hair a complete mess and his clothes in disarray.

The words of hatred that had spilled from those lips – lips that had whispered endearments not too long before – had cut Bilbo to the core. The first crack that could be irrevocable, if he were to survive this moment.

“How could you! Liar! Traitor! Thief! I should just throw you from here, so that you go meet your friends down there.”

The fingers tightened a little more and Bilbo couldn’t breathe. His feet were kicking more frantically now and dark was starting to appear on the edge of his vision.

“T-Thorin-“ Bilbo’s attempt at words left him in a weak exhalation as the dwarf shook him. The hobbit’s hands coming to grasp desperately at the ones holding him. Until-

His side collided hard against the stone of the inside of the battlements, what air was left in his lungs wheezing out painfully and then the hobbit started to draw air, gasping urgently.

It took him a few moments to understand that he had been thrown to the inside of the wall.

When he mustered the strength to open his eyes he saw Thorin, half collapsed, half leaning against the stone wall, a horrified look in his face. The other dwarves had yet to move a muscle but Bilbo noticed.

And then the King looked at him.

Bilbo felt relief fill him as the gaze that locked onto his was a clear one.

 

* * *

 

The ground felt cold and utterly disgusting under Bilbo’s feet. The snow had turned into cold mud that was quickly mixing with both red and black blood, making everything become more slippery and awful.

Bilbo knew that he didn’t want to be here – the battles in the books never actually portrayed the horrors the hobbit was seeing, horrors that he would rather forget. But, for the moment, he had his ring on and if his invisible state could be of any help for his allies, so be it.

Sting’s blade was positively blazing blue as he and some dwarves and men were surrounded by all sorts of orcs, goblins and wargs. It was like a beacon of light in the world of hazy and muted colours the hobbit was now inhabiting – and he almost wondered if others could also see it. but no… he would just keep helping in any way he could, grimacing as Sting cut through flesh and bone, covering him in blood. These motions came as utterly foreign to him, the awful faces of his enemies embedding themselves in his mind.

By the corner of his eye he noticed that the dwarves he had been fighting alongside to were retreating slightly and he hurried to follow, just in time for another salve of arrows to come raining down.

Thankfully Thorin had gathered his wits in time to forge an alliance with elves and men. Bilbo shuddered, just imagining what might have happened otherwise.

He got back on the move, his desperate search for his friends and, especially, Thorin. Among the clangor of steel and yells and the cacophony overall, he had heard that Azog was here. That positively terrified the hobbit. So, he had to continue. Doing his best to help here and there, Bilbo trudged through the sludge that was the ground, now littered with corpses.

It was getting increasingly harder to demand to his tired body to continue, legs aching, the arm that held Sting feeling like it might fall off, a headache pressing against his temples and even his ears were throbbing.

Ignoring his discomforts Bilbo pressed on. And then a sudden flare made him look up and he saw them – the Eagles of Manwë were coming.

Bilbo felt hope fill him, there might still be a chance for the all to come out of this dreadful battle.

He just had to _find_ his friends.

But then he felt a sudden pain in the back of his head.

And everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo’s feet started to move sluggishly, trying to kick against what was pressing them down. He managed to kick some pebbles but wasn’t able to dislodge the large mass that was on top of him.

There were voices coming from somewhere nearby and Bilbo realized that they were soldiers, men – which meant that they had really won the war! Bilbo started struggling in a near panic, getting truly panicked when he realized that he was under an orc corpse. His throat didn’t seem to be working and when it did work the men stood still, not being able to see him.

That was when he remembered that he was still wearing the ring. He took it off and started calling for them.

The urge to go find the Company, to go find Thorin, singing in his blood.

So, before long, he was being carried by one of the men, his feet kicking a little with every other step. Bilbo saw with a mix of excitement and dread as the encampment got closer and closer. Hastily erected and among a snowy plane, people walking hurriedly around.

Finally, Bilbo was placed on the ground in front of one of the tents, Gandalf – one arm bandaged and resting against his chest – was there and so were Balin and Dwalin – the two dwarves lining the entrance of the tent, looking tired and with some wounds, though they didn’t seem too serious.

“Ah, Bilbo, my friend. I’m glad you’re safe. But now, come…” Gandalf motioned for the man to leave them while at the same time he beckoned for the hobbit to come closer. “There’s someone you must see.” He looked at Balin who pushed back one of the tent’s flaps, revealing an opening to the inside of the tent. “You have been called.” The wizard placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and gave him a little nudge.

Bilbo entered the tent, his eyes taking a little to adjust to the fewer lighting.

At first all he could see was a dark lump near the tent’s wall, some dark blobs of things scattered on the ground. As he blinked, everything started to get into focus and Bilbo saw that the lump was in fact Thorin.

“Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed, hurrying to the dwarf’s side. He closed his hands around Thorin’s right hand, which was resting over the top of the blanket.

The dwarf stirred, discomfort carved on his features as he opened his eyes slowly. Reflexively his hand tightened on Bilbo’s hand before turning his face to him.

“Thorin.” Bilbo breathed out and felt his eyes mist a little at the sight of the small smile that was being pointed at him.

“You’re here.” Thorin said as he released his hand from Bilbo’s grip and started to shift into a sitting position.

“Of course I am, you silly old dwarf. Where did you want me to be?” Bilbo started by saying in a rush, hands fluttering uselessly around the dwarf. “Maybe you shouldn’t be doing that… Thorin, don’t be stubborn, you probably should be lying down.”

Thorin snorted and batted the hands away. He sat on the bed and looked at the hobbit.

“I’m fine, Bilbo. Have you forgotten how sturdy dwarves are?”

Bilbo wasn’t convinced. The fabric of the shirt he was wearing was stained red and a large bandage – was that a splint? Bilbo realized with a jolt – over his left arm.

“I don’t care if dwarves are sturdy as stone or not, master Oakenshield,” Bilbo started saying, hoisting himself to the top of his height, hands coming to rest on his hips, “but even a dwarf – who survived a gruesome battle – needs to recover. And I see blood. You need rest, not to push yourself now!” Bilbo ended his tirade throwing his arms up to emphasize his words. He glared at Thorin. “Your injuries. Tell me about them.” He added, taking a deep breath but still looking heatedly at the dwarf.

“Bilbo…” Thorin started, trying to calm the hobbit down. But the glare he received was so strong that he sighed in defeat. “Fine. Óin said that my left arm is broken, there are a few stabs on my stomach but the worst is the gash on my right leg. But both he and…” Thorin’s mouth curled in disgust, “Thranduil’s healers are taking good care of it. Happy?”

“That’s better because-“ Bilbo started, deflating a little but being cut off by Thorin.

“And how about you? What happened during the war? Are you injured?” The dwarf’s words were said quickly as he placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, starting to pat him to see if everything was alright.

“I’m fine, Thorin. Just have a bump in the head.” Bilbo said while he closed his hands around Thorin’s, pausing the other’s exploration.

“Have you-?” Thorin continued undeterred.

“Thorin, I just wanted to see how you were faring. And the boys… I need to know if the whole company has survived and…” he started babbling as he was still unsure of his standing with the king, after the whole battlement situation. There hadn’t been much time to talk things through, after all.

“And I owe you an apology.”

The words made Bilbo stop and stare blankly at Thorin. He wasn’t expecting an apology.

“You… Thorin… I…” he said, baffled.

Thorin shook his head slowly and his face showed plainly the feelings he was so adept in hiding. The grimace in his face softened and he tightened his hold on the hobbit’s hand.

Bilbo was still beyond reaction.

They stood that way in silence until Thorin fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I started plotting and writing this fic a while ago. It was inspired by Epica's song of the [same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0P00Cbb0aVw). Well, both versions of the song. ^^  
> Anyway, this is me trying to return to this ship I'm so fond of... so I will hopefully get back to the several fics I have plotted for Bagginshield really soon. I posted this first part to make me finish this story for once and for all. Let's hope it works, hehehe...  
> Thanks for reading, this is the only sad story I will allow myself to write for Bagginshield because fix-its are everything and denial in this case is a lovely thing. :P


End file.
